En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Natures Call Save The Forest Of The Night

Dimmed to infiltrate the forest of the night
The single lamp post of the moon,
Shines her recycled yesterday’s sunshine,
The leaves move in harmony rustling the tune
With the floor moving with life with extreme evening sight,
The staccato’s beat sets the rhythm.
Nothing escapes the damp drapes of the silent breeze,
All creatures are hungry it’s time to forage,
Nature’s rule every living thing knows eat or be eaten.
The snake consumes the stolen egg,
Bird eats the worm
Spider mummifies the fly,
The leopard dines on the weak.
The trees feel immune until
Elephant hunger‘s early morning grasp strips the tree
The flesh eating cat slumbers
Dreaming of his lions share,
The bird with a broken wing wears a coat of ants,
Life goes on as dawn approaches as
The dung beetle is happy for his larvae’s lunch,
Then time takes the evening away with the
Praying mantis who did not enjoy her sex,
So consumes her lover,
In the forest of the night.
As the early morning bird doth sing
Mankind consumes everything,

Coaxing Mother nature's wrath to sting!

poem by Ken e Hall
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As Mankind consumes
Everything, it’s Coaxing Mother
Nature’s wrath to sting! '

haiku by Ken e Hall
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As Mankind consumes

Everything, it’s Coaxing Mother

Nature’s wrath to sting! '

haiku by Ken e Hall
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From Dusk to Dawn

As the end of the day takes on a stillness,
and the daylight blue changes to grey.
The twilight suddenly becomes quite noisy
as the birds have their last say.

They flutter for position on the branches
and disturb the stillness of the leaves.
Squabbling for their night-time roosts,
with the magpies dominating with ease.

It takes quite a while for the birds to settle,
but there's a disagreeable one,
and that one brings mayhem to the treetops,
until persuaded it's time to move on.

As dawn approaches there's a movement,
a bird changes its place of stay.
An early bird welcomes in the new morning
as it gets its first sight of day.

Early hours and the treetops are waking,
the magpie tidies its wings and tail.
Yesterday’s bread is much too hard to swallow,
so it swoops down, and wets it in the pail.

poem by Orlando Belo
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Nature's Sting Back Survival Ploy

'Mankind consumes everything,
Coaxing Mother nature's wrath to sting! '

inspired poem Ken Hall themed in realities,
etchings of the laws of nature with contrasts,
of observational brilliant insight sustained,
line by line building reveal ultimate climatic

revelation; destructive humanity stir baits
all creation, not according to kill or be killed
but by ultimate control or destroy insanity,
pending is nature's sting back survival ploy.

A written dedication to the poem 'Natures Call Save the Forest of the Night' by Ken Hall. Quoted lines by Ken Hall.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Predator Prey Early Morning

i could be an early bird today
that catches no worm

but i do not really mind
being early is enough

having to find something to eat
because there is nothing yet

to prey upon a chance
is another

at most
an early bird does its best

one time
after another
time

till it is finally
eaten
by another early predator

who makes
the same complaint

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Got The Sun In The Morning

Taking stock of what I have and what I haven't
What do I find?
The things I got will keep me satisfied
Checking up on what I have and what I haven't
What do I find?
A healthy balance on the credit side
Got no diamond
Got no pearl
Still I think I'm a lucky girl
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
Got no mansion
Got no yacht
Still I'm happy with what I got
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
Sunshine
Gives me a lovely day
Moonlight
Gives me the Milky Way
Got no checkbooks
Got no banks
Still I'd like to express my thanks
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
And with the sun in the morning
And the moon in the evening
I'm all right
[2]
Got no mansion
Got no yacht
Still I'm happy with what I got
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
Got no silver
Got no gold
What I got can't be bought or sold
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
Sunshine
Gives me a lovely day
Moonlight
Gives me the Milky Way
Got no checkbooks
Got no banks
Still I'd like to express my thanks
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
And with the sun in the morning
And the moon in the evening
I'm all right
[3]
Sunshine
Gives me a lovely day
Moonlight
Gives me the Milky Way
Got no heirlooms
For my kin
Made no will but when I cash in
I leave the sun in the morning and the moon at night
And with the sun in the morning
And the moon in the evening they're all right

song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Is, He Is

She is a skyscraper in a bustling city
And as sweet as candy in a baby’s hand.
She is a cheetah in the savanna
And as keen as a chimpanzee.
She is the grace of the morning sunrise,
And as thin as a twig,
But she is sad,
Sad,
So sad.

Her loneliness consumes her.

He is the giant in a fairytale,
And as caring as a mother bird.
He is a race car on the speedway,
And as sharp as a pencil.
He is the prince in the story,
And as silly as a clown,
But he is sad,
Sad,
So sad.

His loneliness consumes him.

poem by Amber Jones
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Early bird

Early bird
catches worm.

Small bird sing earlier
Bird that see first
Break the dawn.

The bird tells
How to be a winner
In the long run.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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What Now Little Bird?

what now little bird?

you look around you
the nest is empty
and mother bird is far away
and siblings
have taken the first jump
to the pond
to learn to float
and then
fly

you think that mother-bird
comes back
to feed you with another worm?

no, little bird
no one is coming back for you
you do not even
know if you have a father-bird
to save you

no, little bird
do not wait
do not waste your time
the sun shines
and it is time
for you to go too

fly now
little bird
find the real meaning of your wings....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Farewell Little Bird

Little bird,
why are you so lonely?

Did you not like your home
that I have prepared for you?

Look! it's made of gold!

Can't you see?
I have given you
the nicest place to live
because
you are so dear to me.

Little bird
please sing me a song,
the one
that I have heard from you
the day I saw you in the forest
before I made you mine.

Little bird,
why are you still lonely?

Is my heart for you
not enough?
Do you really want your life
back in the forest? ....

Little bird,
there you are!
now, spread your wings
I'm setting you free.....

Little bird,
I'd rather let you go
and see your happiness,
than keep you beside me
and see your loneliness.

Farewell little bird.

I wish
to hear your song again
......in the forest.

poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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I Love Time Out With Nature

I love time out with Nature and I love peace and quiet
To walk along the gravel path in the evening sunlight
When the wild birds are singing and Spring is in her prime
And even memories of such inspire the soul to rhyme.

I love time out with Nature a brief release from care
For Nature she is generous her gifts with all she share
We drink of her clear spring waters and we breathe in her life sustaining air
And Nature's splendid beauty is around us everywhere.

I love time out with Nature the only God I know
Her stream from the high country down to the river flow
The skylark from the rank grass in the mood for song he fly
One of Nature's feathered minstrels he carols in the sky.

In time out with Mother Nature from life's cares I find ease
The sounds of the leaves rustling in the freshening evening breeze
And we much like the Seasons to life we come and go
But Nature lives forever the only God I know.

poem by Francis Duggan
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A Need For A New House....Or Home...

early morning
when the doors are still closed and the windows still tipsy
like the whole house

you fly away

the sun comes out with the clouds
early morning you fly away
away from it all

the clouds are floors and grasses
and you are a lonely bird among a flock of chairs

early morning you fly away
thinking about nothing

you fly away and you feel like a leaf inside
that gentle beast

it is a ride-awA Need For A New House....Or Home...ay
among the paradoxes of life
and its ironies

early morning there is this flight that takes you to a stop-over
of your life

no one knows that you are grieving
over a search for what you feel

the one you had which you lost
intentionally

among the flock of chairs landing early morning
on unstable floors

early morning you take a cab
you choose still

which house

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Early In The Morning

Early in the morning and I cant get right
Had a little date with my baby last night
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Now its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to all the places where we used to go
Went to your house but you dont live there no more
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to your friends house but she was out
Knock on your fathers door and he began to shout get out there boy
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to doogie chain to get something to eat
Waiter looked at me and said you sure look beat
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Victim to persecution

Then you talk a little more about your dreams,
How it involves your thought of rings,
a little more about your needs,
for i bit my tounge,
just for a feed,
for you drag me in the street,
ask me to forgive your mistakes,
put me in misery from your plea,
as i buckle from my knees,

It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
but what was it like?
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,

It's perjury on your arm,
that was put there by your soul,
your feeling sorry, for not achieving your goals,
tacking in your argument,
as you stated with your thought,
you bring me down,
and destroy my heart,

It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
but what was it like?
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,

Asking which way is out,
Asking which was not as hard,
Misdirected in your final mount,
as you shout,
cry your lungs out to stay afloat,
yet push me under,
strain to be felt,
pushing me down, holding my throat,
I started to feel the black,
and evil you call your safety boat,

It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
but what was it like?
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,

toss in the rope, pull it tight,
you might be something,
but what was it like?
examining it close,
you cross your path,
just get it right,
asking for the sight,
to see your destination,
falling victim,
to persecution,
put on a trial,
to discover if your human,
for your life,
failing to corruption,
of your mind,
sorry about how you felt,
but do you know yourself?

It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
but what was it like?
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

poem by Matthew Boisjolie
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The Singing Bat

A bird was caught inside a trap
which closed its claws with a loud snap.
The snap was heard by Fritz the cat
who had been stalking a young bat.

The bat was hanging from a tree
had wrapped around a twig his knee.
'AHA', the cat now saw the bird
it was a finch, and it occurred

to Fritz the cat that here was food
enough to lift a feline's mood.
He'd eat the bird right in the trap
and afterward take a short nap.

The finch had lifted up his wing
and, full of love, began to sing.
He figured if this day meant death
he'd entertain with his last breath.

The cat was just about to eat
when that sweet voice, now in defeat,
sang, in e-flat the Lorelei
and Fritz the cat began to cry.

And if you know a thing or two
perhaps from visits to the Zoo:
A cat can either eat or cry,
not both. And trapped birds cannot fly.

The bat, who had observed the drama
in upside-down-like panorama,
approached because this tearful issue
required help and Kleenex tissue.

The closest thing to tissue though
is bat-wing skin and if you blow
across the tears toward the wing
a bat will likely start to sing.

And, right away, that's what transpired,
the bat sang loudly. And inspired
the cat to see him as a meal,
complete with musical appeal.

The bat soon sang of Mother Goose,
predictably, tied his own noose.
Was eaten by the hungry cat,
it's Nature's way when cat eats bat.

When Fritzie got up from his nap
he let the finch out of the trap.
The finch who saw a hungry eye
began to sing the Lorelei.

poem by by unknown author
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Purpose

Tall trees touch the sun,
As the moon follows behind,
Lost inside of a rainbow.
The sun’s rays fail to dispel the darkness,
Although
It may be very early morning.
Leaves on the trees are
Small cupped hands, which
Cling to branches of unreality.
They hold dewdrops,
Tears of naiads
Lost in the storm of their
Abject misery,
Destined as they were
To reach heaven someday
Too far to travel from
Their homes amongst the woodlands.
One could have been myself,
Rising early, at daybreak
Each and every morning,
I would venture outward to
Walk the same rugged pathway
Uphill and down,
Winding about myriads of trees,
Some that would scrape the sky and others
Fallen by many a windstorm-
In my dream I would board a small jet plane,
Fluorescent in its color,
Headed towards the heavens, as it
Would travel through the forest at dawn-
Perhaps, I thought at one time,
This could be a different kind of a journey-
Now I know,
I am none but a lost soul,
With no purpose in life,
Awakening every single day
Only to voyage outward,
To follow the sun…
I may capture each moment in time,
Loving every tree and being mesmerized by
The sight of young deer grazing and then leaping
Through the brush, and
Although so in love with nature,
My life is none but static-
Listening to the same lullaby
Day and night, though soothing as it may be, and
Seeing the world through the eyes of a dreamer,
This phantasmal life is without change or purpose-
Perhaps I should be grateful that the sun
Does not hide its face and
Someday I may lose myself inside the clouds that decorate the sky,
Follow the moon towards midnight’s passage, hide
Inside that rainbow captured and
Lose myself in a
Different realm of time…

Claudia Krizay

poem by Claudia Krizay
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I write these lines upon a sheet of paper

I write these lines upon a sheet of paper
That someone made from what was once a forest
Without much thought (as I suspect) for nature:
Does this not fill my heart with guilty sorrow?
Or is its lifeblood more akin to water
That runs in rivers under cloud and sunshine?

Why am I so affected by the sunshine?
All that I do - whether I read the paper,
Or, being thirsty, drink a glass of water,
Or walk amid the tall trees of the forest,
If there's no sun, my mind is fill'd with sorrow,
And if it shines, gladness is in my nature.

But gladness is not always in the nature
Of all terrestrial things, whether the sunshine
Dispels from my own mind some part of sorrow
For many men and creatures, as the paper
I read informs me, live within a forest
Of woe, and some have not a dropp of water.

One dropp of that mysterious liquid, water,
Would save a living animal, by nature,
Whether it dwelt in pasture or in forest,
However little it received of sunshine,
It cannot be exprest by lines on paper
How marv'llously that liquid quenches sorrow.

How much may we, the lucky living, sorrow,
For those who have been drown'd by cruel water,
The greater part of whom are not on paper
Recorded: but the cruelty of Nature
Alone knows. May their souls in heavenly sunshine
Be rested, and walk peaceful through that forest.

I think that life itself is like the forest,
A dark one, where one knows not whether sorrow
Will come, or else a glade o'erspread by sunshine,
That suddenly becomes a fall of water
That patters down in raindrops, in its nature.
Will those trees bloom or turn to crumpled paper?

I'll use no further paper from the forest:
My nature does not wish for you to sorrow,
But sit by flowing water in the sunshine.

poem by David Mitchell
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The Tame Bird Was In A Cage

THE tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, 'O my love, let us fly to the wood.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Come hither, let us both live in the cage.'
Says the free bird, 'Among bars, where is there room to spread one's wings?'
'Alas,' cries the caged bird, 'I should not know where to sit perched in the sky.'

The free bird cries, 'My darling, sing the songs of the woodlands.'
The cage bird sings, 'Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of the learned.'
The forest bird cries, 'No, ah no! songs can never be taught.'
The cage bird says, 'Alas for me, I know not the songs of the woodlands.'

There love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, 'Come closer, my love!'
The free bird cries, 'It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of the cage.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Alas, my wings are powerless and dead.'

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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VI

The tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, "O my love, let us fly to wood."
The cage bird whispers, "Come hither, let us both live in the
cage."
Says the free bird, "Among bars, where is there room to spread
one's wings?"
"Alas," cries the cage bird, "I should not know where to sit
perched in the sky."

The free bird cries, "My darling, sing the songs of the
woodlands."
The cage bird says, "Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of
the learned."
The forest bird cries, "No, ah no! songs can never be taught."
The cage bird says, "Alas for me, I know not the songs of the
woodlands."

Their love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing
to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to
know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, "Come closer, my
love!"
The free bird cries, "It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of
the cage."
The cage bird whispers, "Alas, my wings are powerless and dead."

poem by Rabindranath Tagore from The Gardener (1913)
Submitted by Silvia Velea
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Willow tree by the lake

Willow tree by the lake standing tall since the day one
Home for birds and squirrels, place of fun
Breeze will come and play with her branches
Whistle at them before they move on
Any time, at mid day, at night or at the crack of dawn
Humming bird feeder and bird house hanging all over the tree
They swing back and forth and hang free
All summer it is a fun house as the birds come and go
Rabbits will hop around on the ground below.
Ducks will sit idle or sleep under her shade
Squirrels will carry food up the trunk, not afraid
During winter when nature sleeps no life around
Willow tree will shelter the birds, the squirrels
and even the worms under it's ground.
Many yrs ago I planted the tree, saw it grow day by day
Sat under it, wrote poems, it made me happy and gay
I know one day my time will be up and I will be gone
But my willow tree will still be here, singing with the wind at each dawn.

poem by Syed Karim
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